


Other Reasons

by emissarystilinski



Series: Teen Wolf Bingo [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Derek returns, M/M, stiles is quite broken, teen wolf bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 04:49:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4551114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emissarystilinski/pseuds/emissarystilinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was sure now that Stiles was just picking a fight to get him angry to the point of leaving. It was close to working but, despite himself, Derek grunted, “Why are you so pissed at me for caring enough to come and help you, to come and save you? That is the stupidest-“</p><p>“I have other reasons!” Stiles screamed, interrupting him, his ribs be damned, “You know I have!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Other Reasons

**Author's Note:**

> TW Bingo Square 1  
> Sentence Starter: "I have other reasons"
> 
> Enjoy x

Derek’s first forty-eight hours back in Beacon Hills were not going so well.

Naturally, when he rolled into town it wasn’t quiet or scenic or peaceful in anyway. It was complete and utter chaos. He barely parked his car before he was shifting into his wolf form, taking off in the direction of Eichen House. All he could think when he saw Scott’s text for help was ‘dear god don’t let Peter be out.’

Luckily, if you can consider them lucky at all, it wasn’t his uncle but the infamous Dread Doctors that were kicking the shit out of his pack when he ran into the supernatural ward. Derek had read about them after finding personal accounts of their last visit to Beacon Hills that had been tucked away in the Hale Vault. He thought they had been a thing of nightmares and scary bedtime stories but a very real gas masked covered face was attacking Liam right in front of him.

The beta managed to wrestle it off which definitely took Derek by surprise. Liam seemed less scared of everything now, jumping right back into the fight before he could even glance at Derek.

He tried not to whimper when he was shaken by a scream that most definitely came from Lydia. She was fighting Eichen House orderlies and a dread doctor all at once which was also new. She looked like the angel of death banshee myths had depicted, rain soaked hair and a gruesome face stretched into an eternal scream.

“Derek!” Scott’s voice commanded his attention and his ears perked up. Scott was hurtling towards him, bleeding profusely from his arm but Derek could tell by the terrified look on his face that there were bigger problems than blood tonight.

He barked at him in way of asking what he could do and Scott understood immediately.

“Go to the preserve, something’s wrong. Stiles is there and he’s in trouble.” Derek snarled low and Scott nodded his head in agreement, “Go now, hurry!”

Derek was out as fast as he came in, bolting up the stairs and out the rear doors in a flash of black fur and a rumbling growl. He had been silently wondering where Stiles was when it seemed the whole pack was in Eichen House. Derek spent the majority of the past six months trying not to think about Stiles when he finally realized that not wanting to think about him said something in itself.

In the end, hindsight had been 20/20 and he realized two things. One, he definitely had feelings for Stiles. Two, those feelings were most likely not returned. He would get over it eventually, acceptance and all that but tonight was not the night.

Tonight he was running full speed through the preserve trying to catch Stiles’ scent before it was too late. He and Stiles never failed to save each other and he wasn’t about to break pattern now.

That’s when he heard it. It was the sound of punches being thrown, kicks being administered, and someone crawling through the leaves. And the fucking smell; all he could smell was blood. A vengeful howl ripped itself from Derek’s chest immediately.

Instead of sprinting into the fight, he hastily made his way towards the sounds and scents as quietly as he could. The other wolf, yes the other person was definitely a wolf, would smell him soon since his scent is ten times stronger when he’s shifted but that just meant he’d have to act fast when he got close enough.

He caught sight of them and tried to tamper down the whine building in his throat. Stiles was definitely the one crawling, trying to bring himself to a standing position but the man over him kept pushing him over hard enough for his head to smack into the ground but not hard enough that he wouldn’t be able to get up. The guy had a sickly grin on his face, eyes glowing a harsh yellow in the moonlight. Derek could smell the power trip from where he stood, the lack of real guilt, and of course the stench of sadistic pleasure.

He felt ill watching Stiles rake his hands through his hair in pure frustration.

“Will you just get it over with!?” he bellowed into the dirt, “You’re obviously going to kill me and I think kicking my ass through the entirety of the woods has been enough foreplay for you. So just do it, dude.”

He heaved himself over onto his back and Derek all but stopped breathing at the sight of him. His face was marred in cuts and blossoming bruises, blood spattered his clothes and his nose was bleeding steadily. It wasn’t his ripped shirt or red smeared skin that made Derek pause, but the look in his eyes. Those usually honeyed eyes were almost black as night, filled with disgust and hardness. Maybe Stiles had never hated him after all because he had never seen him give a look like that.

“Come on, Stiles!” the wolf cackled, almost giddy, “You know I won’t just grant you a wish like that. I’m enjoying myself, aren’t you? It would kill me if you weren’t having fun.”

He slapped a hand over his mouth in fake embarrassment before whispering, “Ooh. Bad pun. Bad death pun, sorry. Anyway!”

Another fist to Stiles’ face followed by a kick in the ribs Derek could tell were at least fractured, the air in his battered lungs leaving him in a wet whoosh. Stiles spat into the forest floor and Derek smelled blood again, could practically taste it.

He had to act soon. Stiles was pulling himself up to lean against a tree, completely forgoing his former plan of standing. His eyes went dead and Derek could see resolve in them. Stiles had his hands at his lower back in a grimace, blank orbs boaring into the almost manic wolfs face.

“Fuck you,” he spat blood at him, “Fuck you and your twisted little games, Theo. You really think Scott is going to let you live after this? After you kill his best friend? Please. You can kiss the pack you almost tore down goodbye. You kill me and you fail because for some reason those idiots care about me and they would fight to their dying breath to see you rot.”

The guy above him, Theo, wasn’t smiling anymore. Stiles’ forever smart mouth had his patience running thin under the full moon that was high in the sky. Stiles knew this, Derek could tell he was bating him. Riling him up would just make him more angry and that’s what Stiles was hoping for. He looked so done, leaning up against that tree and Derek was terrified that if he didn’t move his limbs he would have to watch Stiles die. He tried and tried but his paws felt like they were sinking in quick sand as the lead like feel of shear panic weighed him down.

“Even the doctors don’t want you, dude.” Stiles goaded, panting harshly as he let his death sentence fall from his lips, “What makes you think my pack is gunna bow to a psycho like you?”

And that’s what did it. That word is what had Theo shifting and rearing back like he was ready to tear Stiles limb from limb, paint the darkness with his blood.

An enraged and hateful snarl left him right as Derek let out one of his own. Absently he thought about how much better this was that he had been paralyzed by fear, the other wolf was completely taken off guard and hesitated.

Derek took the moment to charge forward and was about to run head on into a fight that would surely end Theo’s life when the lupine face he was fixated on went slack and Derek heard a wet, solid thud along with a delayed gunshot.

The yellow eyes faded and his wolf-like features retreated so his face turned back into his surprisingly boyish, human face before falling unceremoniously to the ground. Blood was leaking out of the bullet wound, mingling with the coating of Stiles’ blood in the dirt.

Derek’s paws skidded in the leaves, his head whipped around to where the shot was fired.

Stiles was still propped against the tree but he had a pistol in his hands. Derek had turned to look at him just in time to see him lower it. Stiles had shot him and with a wolfsbane bullet too if the smell was any indication.

Derek flinched when Stiles’ eyes fell on him but the empty eyes had turned vibrant and focused again, wide whiskey orbs stared in disbelief.

“Derek?” he whispered, seemingly unable to really grasp that Derek was standing just a few hundred feet away. It almost made Derek question whether he was right to assume Stiles had no feelings for him.

Almost. He felt his hopeful thoughts drop dead in the brush with Theo when Stiles’ disbelief turned to anger, a fiery look in his eyes that had Derek preparing himself for a fight.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Stiles barked, turning away from Derek to grip the tree behind him hard so he could slowly bring himself to stand.

Derek wanted to growl at him for being such a dick but it came out as a confused whine.

“Don’t you make that fucking noise at me.” Stiles turned to face him, putting on the safety and tucking his gun into the back of his jeans, “I could’ve missed if you had jumped him, could’ve fucking killed you because you wanted to play hero.”

Derek was reeling. He wanted to play hero? Stiles, wielder of bats, was telling him that he was trying to play hero?

Derek did growl then, trying to stand in front of Stiles to stop him from limping away from him. He must have gotten too close because the boy- no, no he wasn’t a boy anymore Derek could see that, the man in front of him flinched back, throwing him a glare.

“Don’t touch me, Derek, don’t you fucking touch me.” His voice was harsh but Derek could see a plea in his features. “Don’t come in here with your concern.” The word left his mouth in a disgusted hiss.

Derek almost shifted back so he could argue or ask questions, just say something but he didn’t want to talk to Stiles without any clothes on. It would have to wait. For now, all he could do was stand there and take it.

“I don’t have time for your pity or your worry, just move out of the way so I can go get myself bandaged up.” It wasn’t a suggestion but an order as Stiles pushed past him as best he could with his right arm gripped tightly around his middle.

Derek let him get a quarter of a mile away before he started following him. He followed him all the way back to the Sherriffs truck, followed the car to the vet’s office where Deaton and Melissa McCall’s cars were parked out front. From what he could hear, Stiles had two fractured ribs, yet another concussion, and a broken nose that he heard Melissa set. She gave him a prescription for the pain and inflammation, instructions on proper care for his ribs, and from what he could tell a dismissed hug.

Derek didn’t even bother moving from beside the truck when Stiles came walking outside, stopping when he saw the black wolf sitting by the car door.

“I thought I told you to leave me alone!” He demanded, too loudly because he winced at the pain in his chest. “Go away, Derek. I mean it.”

But Derek didn’t go away. All he did was run back to his car, shift, get dressed, and drive to Stiles’ house. Which is what got him here to his current argument with Stiles.

“You had no right to be there!” Stiles tried to yell, grimacing at his throbbing lungs, “I can take care of my fucking self, been doing for months now.”

Derek huffed out a laugh, “Really? You can take care of yourself now?” Stiles nodded sarcastically so he continued, “Stiles I’ve saved your ass countless times now without you uttering a complaint once.”

Stiles leaned back against his bedroom door, arrogant and haughty, “Oh, you have, have you? Cause I’m just a damsel in fucking distress that’s never saved you? Ever? Not once? Which one are you in this situation Derek, the pot or the kettle?”

He was sure now that Stiles was just picking a fight to get him angry to the point of leaving. It was close to working but, despite himself, Derek grunted, “Why are you so pissed at me for caring enough to come and help you, to come and save you? That is the stupidest-“

“I have other reasons!” Stiles screamed, interrupting him, his ribs be damned, “You know I have!”

Derek actually stumbled backwards at the force of his words and the completely broken look on Stiles’ face. The hard, stoney mask he had had on all night cracked in half to reveal a Stiles he knew. He can’t remember the last time he saw the teen look so destroyed and he had a feeling he had a hand in the demolition.

“Excuse me?” Derek gulped, his voice sounded like sandpaper and he tried to keep his hands from trembling.

Stiles was looking at him, really looking at him. Derek could see the last six months etched into Stiles’ freckled skin. His room was a mess, clear investigation board full of questions and scribbles but no answers. Derek could hardly look into Stiles’ eyes because the rawness was so unnerving but he did it any way in an attempt to bare his soul just as equally.

Minutes passed as Derek stood by the window breathing heavily and Stiles slumped back against his closed door. Their eyes didn’t waver until Stiles dragged a hand over his face, shaking his head.

“You left, Derek.” He started in a murmur, eyes looking lost as he spoke, “You died, in Mexico you fucking died and then you left without a word. You told me to leave you. You actually made me leave you, God, fuck you.” The rage was back in his eyes when he grumbled the words at him, “And you know what? This year has been hell. It’s been utter hell on fucking Earth because my best friend refused to take off his ‘I’m a true alpha’ hat to look at people for what they were, because my girlfriend- oh I’m sorry ex-girlfriend almost got murdered by her own mother and left me because I’m a lying sack of shit, and on top of it all, we’ve been being terrorized by electrified doctors that have a weird supernatural fetish.”

Derek was so confused. He understood why Stiles was angry, why he was the way he was right now but what had Derek done to-

“And when I was being flipped over in my jeep and chased through the damn school by a fucking chimera I kept thinking ‘if only Derek were here.’ You fucking left me here.” He was practically whispering now, lip sucked into his mouth as Derek saw him trying to swallow past a lump in his throat.

“Stiles-“ Derek started towards him but he raised a hand that made Derek stop in his tracks.

Eyes ablaze he mustered up enough strength to bellow, “You left me here! We don’t leave each other- ever. After you made me leave you in Mexico you fucking left me here to unravel.”

And Derek could see him coming undone right in front of him, large, pale hands shaking as he ran a hand through his hair. He pulled his arms around himself and Derek felt a pang of guilt at how small he looked there, huddled against his bedroom door. Derek had let this happen to him.

“Stiles,” he started again, determined to walk across the room even when Stiles shook his head and sunk to the ground beneath him, “Stiles I never meant to leave you. I meant to leave here. I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I’m so fucking sorry. There isn’t anywhere else I wanted to be.”

Stiles eyes shot up, tears blurring his vision as he squinted in confusion, “You just said-“

“I meant with you. There wasn’t anywhere else I wanted to be. There still isn’t anywhere else I want to be but right here with you.” The confession slipped out in a rushed whisper that he just couldn’t hold in anymore, couldn’t help catching Stiles’ tears with his fingertips.

He was shocked that Stiles was allowing him to cup his cheek and thumb away the wetness there. It took him a few minutes to lean into the touch, seeming like there were things he couldn’t help doing either.

“Please stay,” he spoke cautiously, like he didn’t know if he and Derek were on the same page, “Like stay here, in Beacon Hills, but also stay here with me tonight. I don’t… I haven’t been sleeping and its worse when my dad isn’t home.”

Derek could tell he was still guarded and he couldn’t entirely blame Stiles for that but it was a start. And he did stay, both the night and in Beacon Hills. That night Stiles told him everything, about Theo and Scott and the pack practically falling apart. He even told him about the memories the Dread Doctors had brought back about his mom and the guilt that came with it. He told Derek about Donovan, the boy that Theo sent to kill him that Stiles murdered in self defense. And Derek held him through his sobs and his tremors till the sky started to lighten into a pale yellow and Stiles had finally fallen asleep against his chest.

They had a lot to work on, a lot of forgiving to do but Derek felt optimistic for the first time in a decade. He and Stiles would get through whatever they needed to as long as they stuck together.


End file.
